....Conclusion (I suggest you read part's one & two first. Trust me)....
Funny thing about haphazard behavior is that rarely do you cover your ass. You just jump head first into the situation, without weighing all possibilities &/or outcomes. Throughout this whole ordeal with *no dry-snitch*, while I'm being the protective older brother to an "armed & dangerous" criminal, I never once asked him what happened to the gun. I was so caught up in the Cloak 'N' Dagger experience, I'd forgotten why he started coming around me to begin with, those light years ago. No dad, no older brothers, uncle (by marriage) was a crack-head, mom only 15 years older than him; he was looking for someone who would be looking for him.
How did I forget to ask him about the fucking gun?
5 minutes became 5 hours. Nightfall became the next day, with no signs of *no dry-snitch*. All the members of the neighborhood goon squad were congregated at our meeting spot, my front porch, when I came outside that morning. Everybody looked at me, & I knew. Seems he, against my warning, decided to stroll through the neighborhood on his way to wherever. His thing was to show the world that he wasn't scared of anything, Pigs included. Once he made his rounds, gave some hugs & shook some hands, he headed to his destination.
What I didn't know was that this whole time, that same dirty gun was on him, always. Jacket pocket, back pack, under his big, dirty ass t-shirt, etc. He always said that valley dude's homies would find him before the cops did, but I've never been good at math, so I didn't put two & two together. That day he left, plain clothes cops were watching, & followed him to where he ended up. Upon leaving that house, they detained & questioned him, & after bumping him up for about a half an hour, a sergeant arrived & I.D.'d him. He had weed & the gun he used to murder another man. It turns out it wasn't a man at all, but another misguided teenager who watched too many movies growing up & was substantially ignored at home. Brothers from another mother, one might say.
That chicken head, the eye of this tragic storm, testified against *no dry-snitch*, & even though we all wrote letters to the court, the judge ultimately threw the book at him. *no dry-snitch* caught the book like a man, & carried it with him under the jail.
25 with an L. Epic fail.
That was a few years back. Now, he's just urban legend; neighborhood fodder used to scare kids straight & teach them about choices. We all know kids don't listen though.
Come to think of it, he used to read things that I wrote & tell me how good I was. Oh, how he'd love this...
Showing posts with label no dry-snitch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no dry-snitch. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
The 5 Minute Factor: part one
How many murderers do you know personally? I know 2. Here's one......
I have a natural magnetism for certain types of people. Mostly the downtrodden. I'm not sure why God decided to give me such an arduous responsibility, but nonetheless, I've accepted it & use my powers for good. Sometimes I become frustrated with the amount of vagabonds & borderline homeless dudes I know, but what can I do? I feel entirely too blessed not to share what God gave me with others if I'm able to. It even talks about something like that in the Bible, word to Jesus Christ.
My young home boy, named *no dry-snitch* was a good kid who, unfortunately, had his eyes widened by the daily antics of the neighborhood supervillians. The gang-banging, dope-dealing, petty criminal activity that we all love to watch on a straight-to-video DVD or hear chronicled in a rap record. Shit is real in this field.
A boy in a man's body, who would spend half of his day following around my friends & I, like an annoying sibling or stray dog, & the other half around the corner with the local ruffians. Seems like that balance would work out in his favor if ever an extreme situation arose, but he (& I) found out that in a matter of 5 minutes, everything you've learned/adopted/believed in can be forgotten & forever lost.
If you know about Los Angeles, you know that every third person has a relative in Pomona, Victorville, The Valley, Ontario, Perris, etc. Those places just happen to be the "get my ass out of L.A." hotbeds. So, *no dry-snitch* had close family in The Valley, who he'd visit often. So much so that he'd met a girl out there. He was still young, so when he came home one day, talking fast & smiling, I knew he had genuine feelings for her, as opposed to good ol' Black lust. Lust, as in, he'd already had a daughter who he never saw, through no fault of his own, so to me, he saw this as a chance to do the whole girlfriend/boyfriend thing correctly.
From the day I'd meet him, he'd gone from decent, clean cut youth, to a misdemeanor-commiting menace to society. Complete with too much hair & gang tattoos. He came to me for advice a lot, which I rationed out to him, depending on how much weed he had, but the one real situation he needed guidance on, he turned to the supervillians.
It seemed that the valley girl already had a boyfriend. In most instances, "out-of-town" niggas detest L.A. dudes, & he was no exception. The fact that he was affiliated with the Eight Trey Gangsta Crip's made him an easier target for the boon dock thug-wanna be's. & now, he'd coveted on of their prized hood rats. Some nigga lost his future baby momma, & surely looked to avenge his loss.
The day came when the two young, Black males crossed paths, on the valley hooligan's home turf. Home court advantage, per se. But *no dry-snitch* wasn't a punk by any means & he held his ground. The two fought, & after what I can only assume was an ass-kicking, the valley boy ran away threatening further violence, in the way that only Black kids from the ghetto(s) can; he's going to be back "with his strap". Again, my young compadre wasn't afraid of much, so this, to him, was another nigga barking as he scurried away with tail tucked.
This wasn't his first foray into the ignorance that is gang violence stemmed from female. In Juvenile Hall, he'd gotten into a squabble behind some tender chick filet, & stabbed a fellow "inmate" in the thigh with a pencil. No stiches, no harm, no foul. As with most incarcerated young men, this only fueled his bloodlust towards the next opportunity to flex his masculinity.
So, 5 minutes later, valley dude returned, this time in a car. He stopped the car & exited. *no dry-snitch* said that he didn't seem to have a gun, but he wasn't looking for one, what with all the adrenaline surging through him. Valley guy walked over & began talking loudly, while the prized chicken head began to back away. *no dry-snitch* decided that he was going to swing first, connected with valley cat's jaw & knocked him to he ground. Immediately, he jumped back up & produced a handgun aimed right for *no dry-snitch*'s chest.
To be continued tomorrow....
I have a natural magnetism for certain types of people. Mostly the downtrodden. I'm not sure why God decided to give me such an arduous responsibility, but nonetheless, I've accepted it & use my powers for good. Sometimes I become frustrated with the amount of vagabonds & borderline homeless dudes I know, but what can I do? I feel entirely too blessed not to share what God gave me with others if I'm able to. It even talks about something like that in the Bible, word to Jesus Christ.
My young home boy, named *no dry-snitch* was a good kid who, unfortunately, had his eyes widened by the daily antics of the neighborhood supervillians. The gang-banging, dope-dealing, petty criminal activity that we all love to watch on a straight-to-video DVD or hear chronicled in a rap record. Shit is real in this field.
A boy in a man's body, who would spend half of his day following around my friends & I, like an annoying sibling or stray dog, & the other half around the corner with the local ruffians. Seems like that balance would work out in his favor if ever an extreme situation arose, but he (& I) found out that in a matter of 5 minutes, everything you've learned/adopted/believed in can be forgotten & forever lost.
If you know about Los Angeles, you know that every third person has a relative in Pomona, Victorville, The Valley, Ontario, Perris, etc. Those places just happen to be the "get my ass out of L.A." hotbeds. So, *no dry-snitch* had close family in The Valley, who he'd visit often. So much so that he'd met a girl out there. He was still young, so when he came home one day, talking fast & smiling, I knew he had genuine feelings for her, as opposed to good ol' Black lust. Lust, as in, he'd already had a daughter who he never saw, through no fault of his own, so to me, he saw this as a chance to do the whole girlfriend/boyfriend thing correctly.
From the day I'd meet him, he'd gone from decent, clean cut youth, to a misdemeanor-commiting menace to society. Complete with too much hair & gang tattoos. He came to me for advice a lot, which I rationed out to him, depending on how much weed he had, but the one real situation he needed guidance on, he turned to the supervillians.
It seemed that the valley girl already had a boyfriend. In most instances, "out-of-town" niggas detest L.A. dudes, & he was no exception. The fact that he was affiliated with the Eight Trey Gangsta Crip's made him an easier target for the boon dock thug-wanna be's. & now, he'd coveted on of their prized hood rats. Some nigga lost his future baby momma, & surely looked to avenge his loss.
The day came when the two young, Black males crossed paths, on the valley hooligan's home turf. Home court advantage, per se. But *no dry-snitch* wasn't a punk by any means & he held his ground. The two fought, & after what I can only assume was an ass-kicking, the valley boy ran away threatening further violence, in the way that only Black kids from the ghetto(s) can; he's going to be back "with his strap". Again, my young compadre wasn't afraid of much, so this, to him, was another nigga barking as he scurried away with tail tucked.
This wasn't his first foray into the ignorance that is gang violence stemmed from female. In Juvenile Hall, he'd gotten into a squabble behind some tender chick filet, & stabbed a fellow "inmate" in the thigh with a pencil. No stiches, no harm, no foul. As with most incarcerated young men, this only fueled his bloodlust towards the next opportunity to flex his masculinity.
So, 5 minutes later, valley dude returned, this time in a car. He stopped the car & exited. *no dry-snitch* said that he didn't seem to have a gun, but he wasn't looking for one, what with all the adrenaline surging through him. Valley guy walked over & began talking loudly, while the prized chicken head began to back away. *no dry-snitch* decided that he was going to swing first, connected with valley cat's jaw & knocked him to he ground. Immediately, he jumped back up & produced a handgun aimed right for *no dry-snitch*'s chest.
To be continued tomorrow....
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